My Would Be Self
by Hyrule Master
Summary: Marta Lualdi is a princess of the Sylvarant Dynasty. She masks her true personality with the facade of a ladylike noblewoman--but it is against her own will. However things change when a castle servant named Emil literally stumbles into her life. AU. R&R!
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

Mara Lualdi did not want to be a princess. As a result her behavior was far from ladylike and distant from the noble court. Often times she was rebuked for this by her father, King Brute, for her rather "straightforward" and "sudden" personality. And so, to keep a healthy reputation as being part of the mighty Sylvarant Dynasty, Marta wore a pleasant and appeasing facade to mask what royalty did not see fit.

She hated it.

It felt like she was lying—that the world she lived in was a lie, from the words she spoke to the people that bowed to her every day. All of it seemed a lie. All she could do, however, was pleasantly smile—a horrible, fake grin that made her feel dirty. Once protected by the walls of her private room, Marta's smile would vanish and she would lay exhausted on her bed from the weight of her crown. Every day she would dream of walking under a sky that was not obscured by castle walls. She would imagine what grass felt like when she didn't wear shoes. They were dreams that remained only for a fleeting moment—then Marta would have to return to being cloaked with royal responsibility.

It was when she was wandering in these dreams of nothing when it happened—

Marta was tossing a pillow into the air, catching it, and tossing it again while carelessly spread out on her bed. She was tired of practicing manners today—especially if Alice was studying with her... Marta scowled at the memory. The men were fairly dull around here too—or annoying. Every time she passed Decus, she always wanted to punch him for that disgusting smell he always had. No—not the ladylike slap—that was too "wimpy" by her standards.

She sighed when the pillow flew off course and fell onto the floor. Marta turned over on her side and began to aimlessly poke the wall. When she thought that she would be capable of making a hole, she heard yelling coming down the hallway. It intrigued her, so she listened closer.

"No, Emil, not that room, it's—"

Marta's bedroom door opened.

Marta scrambled around, finding a proper position one would find a princess in whose room had been barged into. To be honest, she didn't care that someone had suddenly entered her room—even though the average princess would be taken aback. She tried to act shocked, however. But her visitor did bring her to a pleasant surprise, that was genuine, though.

It was a boy her age—with pale blond hair with a single strand sticking straight into the air—she had the urge to cut it. Though she was immediately intrigued by his eyes; they were the most piercing green, which brilliantly contrasted against his slightly tan skin. He had dropped the pile of pillows he was carrying and immediately stumbled over them when he had set his gaze on Marta.

"T-The P-Princess?!" He squeaked.

For the first time since she could recall, deep curiosity swept over Marta as she looked upon this servant boy who was apparently named Emil...

A woman, whom Marta presumed to have yelled at him before, appeared gathered the pillows, and deeply bowed, "My most sincerest apologies, Your Highness."

She had then dragged Emil, who still seemed overcome with strong embarrassment, out of the room. Marta was slightly disappointed when the door had closed. She would have liked to look at the boy a little longer... However chances of seeing him again was slim to none.

Fortunately for Marta, the slim chance happened...


	2. Impeccable Timing

_**A/N: **_I got a much better first response to this story than I was expecting--so I was motivated to write another chapter. Anyway, enjoy. =3

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Impeccable Timing

Marta had scowled at her tea. Indeed, when she was allowed her first tea session with her father, she was thrilled (she was fascinated with anything romantic and fantasy-like). However now it had grown to be a tedious repetition. Marta would have been soothed by the way pink flower pedals would drift gracefully onto the table and sometimes into her tea when she was younger, but now it just seemed to be fake.

"_Uh-hem_"

When her father had given that obviously false cough, Marta realized that she really was scowling, and quickly returned to the smile she wore before. The smile would have been slightly more genuine, however, if Alice and Decus weren't having tea in the courtyard with them as well.

"It's so lovely and mild weathered today, isn't it, Marta?"

"Yes, Dad—Father, it is."

Marta had been forbidden from calling her father "Daddy" as well—the term wasn't formal enough.

"I just can't wait to practice and study manners with you this evening, my _dear_ princess." Alice had commented when she had noticed Marta's slip up.

The note of sarcasm was so obvious in her voice, Marta so desperately wanted to bash her face inward. It had taken a lot of her will power to merely hold back the scowl that she felt coming across her face. She drank from the tea cup again—ugh...

"Alice, you're so ladylike already, that you needn't study manners..."

Marta tuned herself out at that moment. She didn't want to hear Decus fawning all over Alice _again_. Their conversations always ended up being the same anyway. Decus would compliment Alice in some way, Alice would sadly attempt to be modest, Decus would compliment her again, then Alice would tell him to stop—in a polite, "ladylike" manner of course. Thankfully Brute had interrupted them this time.

"I am curious to know where our crumpets are," He turned toward a nearby servant, "Might I inquire why they are late?"

"Just a moment, Your Majesty, they should be here very soon."

As if that was a cue, the door to the courtyard opened. Marta didn't bother to look—the expressions that the servants wore were all the same: indifferent and nearly emotionless. She noticed, however, that her father, Alice, and Decus could not move their gaze from the door. When she heard the new voice echo in the air, she could understand why.

"S-sorry to keep you waiting, your Majesties..."

It was Emil.

Marta immediately turned her head in his direction. Staring at his face seemed to thrust her into some sort of fantasy land that she had dreamed while in her room. This servant that intrigued her so much really was a reality. He was carrying an elaborate silver tray with several crumpets mounted on it. It certainly did not match the clothing he wore, which was a white tunic with turquoise hems and simple black pants. Marta had observed all of this in a second, because shortly afterward she had let out an involuntary gasp.

Emil's eyes darted toward Marta and let out a squeak. He had nearly dropped the tray he was holding, but quickly regained his balance. His mouth flew open as if he was either going to scream or say something. Marta's expression was the same—and for a moment, the two did not look away from each other. Brute, Alice, and Decus all looked between the two with awestruck confusion. For a moment the air carried a heavy tension. Then when Marta was finally aware of what she was doing, she quickly looked away, then hesitantly raised her head toward her father. If Marta had not been involved in this situation, she most likely would have giggled at his expression. However she grew deeply embarrassed when she had met his gaze. She quickly looked back down at her ginori tea cup.

Emil had hesitantly walked over toward the table where the nobles sat at and carefully placed the tray on the edge, being sure not to set his gaze upon Marta. He deeply bowed as he backed away from the table, uttering nearly under his breath,

"H-Have a lovely afternoon, Majesties."

He was out of the courtyard quicker than prey running from a predator.

There was a strange silent in the courtyard after that moment and at the same time, a wave of panic swept over Marta. What sort of royalty acknowledged servants in that sort of flustered manner? And why was she flustered in the first place? Marta's mind spun in circles as she slowly lifted her head to glance at Alice and then Decus, who had looks of complete and utter shock—though a few moments later, it seemed Alice was trying to hold in a burst of laughter. Marta's eyes turned from them to her father, whose eyes seemed to hold fury glazed over with disappointment. At that moment, Marta slowly stood up, shaking.

"I will excuse myself for the afternoon."

She then slowly strode away—and it took a great amount of effort to do so. If all sets of eyes were not fixed on her, Marta would have sprinted across the courtyard, slammed the door open, and vanish as quickly as possible into the castle. The time that it took to merely get to the door seemed like hours...and the silence was still so piercing. Oh, how embarrassing!

Studying manners with Alice later that evening was worse.

"So, Martmart, is there a secret your keeping from me?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Alice sat across the table from Marta, of course keeping her eyes fixed on her target. She lifted her elbows onto the table and crossed her fingers so that her hands formed a resting place for her chin. She sneered at Marta with an evil glint in her eye.

"You seemed to know that stuttering servant boy quite well for a princess."

She was directly attacking her...

"Alice, I hardly know him."

"Oh so you _do_ know him to some degree then?"

Thankfully at that moment, their instructor had spoken up.

"Alice—you do _not_ put your elbows on the table!"

Marta did not know how she had endured going through a whole hour with her. What was even worse was that she constantly thought of how her father would treat her. Because of this, she was avoiding him like the plague, but still had the haunting image of him eventually finding her and lecturing her. However what bothered her the most is that even after all this embarrassment—she still wanted to see this Emil again. Her thoughts were chaos—her head began to ache. Marta needed some way to relax...

She had informed her servants that she was on her way to the bath when she had returned from studying manners. Marta had refused any assistance—she wanted to be alone as much as possible. After hanging her change of clothes on the rack, filling the tub with water, and placing her bath robes next to it, she undressed and submerged herself in the bubbly water. The direct warmth on her skin was refreshing, and all her tense muscles eased at once. A great, satisfied sigh passed her lips then.

Sinking a little lower into the water, Marta collected her thoughts from the mess they were a few moments before. The aching in her head ceased when order was made from the chaos within her mind. Naturally, she began to dwell on her recent memories—of course being careful to avoid the embarrassing moments to some degree. For the first time, however, her thoughts weren't driven to strange fantasy worlds that never existed—but rather to the memory of the boy, Emil. She slowly had begun to grow fond of the strand that stood straight up on his had. And what piercing eyes he had...She wondered what he would look like with a smile—the thought of it made her heart flutter.

...Marta's eyes widened.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

How could this be? She didn't even have a face-to-face conversation with him yet! Why would she—how? Marta's thoughts began to swirl again...a lightheaded feeling overtook her whole body—her arms began to feel numb, and her heart burned with a strange passion she did not know before...almost to the point where it was painful. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as the feeling within her began to intensify. Marta was very grateful that she was alone that moment.

Or so she thought...

The door to the room had opened, and behind the stack of towels being carried...was Emil.

Could his timing be more inconvenient?

A scream ripped from Marta's lips as she curled up in an attempt to cover herself. Her face was the color of a tomato now, and when Emil saw her, so was his. Soon, both of their screams collided in some strange musical chord that echoed in the brilliant acoustics of the bathroom. Emil didn't even bother to pick up the towels he dropped as he scrambled his way out yelling,

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The door behind him slammed shut and subsequently another yell was heard from down the hall.

"Emil—knock! You _knock_ before going into the bathroom!"

Marta didn't know how to compare this to what happened earlier in the day. She placed her hands on either side of her head and sunk even lower in the bathtub. She couldn't believe how the events were laying out—how common was it for a royal noble to see the same servant so many times in the passed few days when there were possibly hundreds of other servants? Of course, even though Emil had left the room, he would not leave her mind. Marta squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth when the strange, fiery feeling gripped her body again. She decided she would not leave until she had fully collected her thoughts and gathered a perfectly sane mind.

She did not leave the bathroom until several hours later...

The night was completely dark now—no trace of light streamed through the windows. Marta didn't even bother to change into the clothes she had brought with her, she just put on her bathrobe. It must have been nearly midnight...No servants would be working at this hour, so she assumed it to be perfectly safe to walk around in such a manner. Even so, she peeked her head out into the hallway, just to make sure. When she had perceived it to be safe, Marta came completely out.

The castle was strangely relaxing at this time of night when it was empty...it was like walking in one of her own fantasy worlds. She was walking barefoot too—it may have been stone rather than grass, but the feeling was somehow intoxicating. Streams of blue moonlight illuminated her skin every time she passed a window as her quiet steps ghostly echoed down the air of the hallway. She turned the corner to the hall where her room was.

...And there was Emil.

Realizing that it was indecent to scream, Marta fought back the sound that nearly escaped her throat and reduced it back to a gasp. Emil did the same. Then a strange silence followed... Marta's body was tense...her heart was beating rapidly...and her arms were numb again... This time however, she wanted to control her own situation—so she put on the mask of a princess and calmly walked passed him.

"Excuse me..."

To her utter surprise, she was halted by his own voice.

"Why are you so proper?" It sounded more commanding than what she had heard from before.

Marta slowly turned around and faced him, with curiosity glazing her eyes, "Excuse me?"

"You don't really seem the type to be all proper like that...it's like you're faking it."

Could he read her mind?

Marta did not know how to react—she didn't know what to say. So all she could do was just stand there, gazing at Emil who had completely caught her by surprise. When the silence began to get drawn out, a small smirk appeared on Emil's face.

"You should probably get to bed...it's late."

For a moment, Marta did not register what he had said—or rather, it had taken a full five seconds for the words to process in her mind. She nodded and began to turn around.

"Wait—"

Immediately she faced him again, ready to take in every sight of him. His voice echoed again, this time intoxicating Marta in such a way that she was entranced and thrown into ecstasy.

"What's your name?"

"...I-It's Marta."

Emil smirked, "Well then, see you...Marta..."

He turned away from her and began to walk in the opposite direction. But for a moment, his eyes caught a bit of the light that came through the window. Marta cocked her head in confusion... weren't his eyes green? At that moment, she could clearly see that Emil's eyes were far from that—at that moment, they were red.


	3. Warmth

_**A/N:**_ Wow, I'm pleasantly surprised at the response I'm getting for this story. Thank you all very much. =) Here's another chapter for you to enjoy.

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_Warmth_

Waking in the morning was like emerging from a dream for Marta. At first she was unsure that the previous night had happened. Had she really been immersed in a strange feeling that set her heart aflame? Had she really spoken face to face with Emil? When something inside her chest began to flutter at the mere thought of his name, she knew it was real. At that moment another memory came to her mind...Emil's eyes were red when she had seen him last. And it was not just his eyes that had changed—his tone of voice, his gestures, the way he carried himself—all of it seemed to be a different Emil. Marta was somewhat bothered by this.

He was like an intriguing, complicated jigsaw puzzle. Marta found that the pieces were scattered around and that the pattern was complex. Yet she was determined to solve it so that she could see the elaborate picture in the end—his soul. She was hardly fazed by the fact that Emil had seen her in her bath robes the night before. Instead, Marta asked herself: why was he out so late in the night? And why were his eyes red at that moment?

It was not until her servant had actually come into her room and opened the drapes that Marta actually rose from bed. When she did, her head was spinning—it felt like she could fly. She only sunk when her servant had handed her her clothes for the day—her mask of a princess.

"I understand that your father, King Brute, would like to speak with you as soon as you are dressed, Your Highness."

Marta sunk even lower.

She had forgotten for a brief moment that her father had seen her very peculiar reaction toward Emil in the courtyard during tea time. Now she had to face her father. Marta dreaded the fact that it seemed like her servant was dressing her quickly. In no time at all, she was out in the halls of the castle—slowly walking to the throne room where he was most likely to be.

The doors seemed to be larger than usual—towering over her with dominance and intimidation. She gently pushed on the doors and they seemed to fly open before her, revealing the sight of her father sitting on his mighty throne. Marta hesitated for a moment and then walked forward, her heart pounding louder with each step; she could hear it echoing in her ears as if the sound swirled around the room.

She had finally reached the base of the flight of stairs leading to Brute's throne when she stopped and curtsied while bowing her head. With great dread, Marta waited for her father's words.

"I'm sure you know why I am speaking to you this morning, Princess Marta."

Marta cringed—she hated that title.

"Yes, I do, Father."

"Then I assume you are prepared to explain the matter of that servant—"

"Father, I hardly know—"

"_Call me 'Your Majesty!_'" His voice left a strange echo in the air, "Then why did you react as such? _Removing the pride of your heritage _for a moment! Marta, you cannot present yourself in such a way when you are the Princess of the Sylvarant Dynasty! And meddling with such servants is most _certainly_ not proper! Do you understand?"

Tears were welling up in Marta's eyes, "But, I—"

"_I said do you understand?!_"

Marta flinched, "Yes...Your Majesty."

A deep silence followed the dying echo of Marta's words. She could feel the tears pushing to the front of her eyes now as her heart continued to pound. She lowered her head—daring not to show the look on her pitiful face to her father.

"Very well, if you understand, you may go."

It required nearly no effort to turn around and briskly make her way out of the throne room for Marta. She had no desire to be there at all. She loved her father so much—that was why it pained her to be yelled at like that. She closed the massive doors behind her and stood for a moment. At last a tear escaped Marta's eye and slid down her cheek, then fell to the cold, stone floor. Then another tear fell—and soon streams were freely flowing down her face. Was a princess supposed to cry like this? Whatever—she didn't care—she was sick of it. The tears only stopped when a familiar voice called her.

"Marta?"

She turned and saw the very face that was meant to comfort her. It was Emil—gazing upon her with deep and genuine concern. If Marta had known him a bit better, she would have leaped into his arms. But all she could do was give a weak smile. Emil clutched the broom he held a little tighter.

"Erm...I heard your father..."

Marta raised her finger in front of her lips, silencing him, then she cautiously glanced around the hall. She then grapped Emil's arm and pulled him with her to a place where she believed them to be obscure from all eyes. For a moment, Marta sat with Emil in silence, but she didn't mind—just his mere presence was enough to comfort her.

"Are you all right?"

Marta looked up and saw his gripping green eyes gazing down at her. Her heart fluttered and skipped several beats. His concern for her touched her deeply.

"Yeah...I'm fine..."

Marta was somewhat shocked with herself—informal words had just slipped forth effortlessly from her mouth before him.

"I-I'm sorry...It's my fault that your father yelled at you." Emil's eyes were cast downward.

"No, it's fine..." Marta replied, "He usually yells at me when he finds that I'm not acting like a princess."

"Sounds stressful."

"Oh, it is." Marta sighed.

They were seeing each other eye to eye now. Marta took the time to observe every feature on his face. The way his cheeks were shaped down to his nose was perfect. At that moment, she was fallen under a spell that he had not even tried to cast on her.

"Still—you're lucky to have a life that is set for you."

Marta sighed and lowered her head—the truth was that she didn't like that at all. She didn't want to be a princess...she didn't want to be an extraordinary woman...she just wanted to be a normal girl. And maybe even then she could...with Emil...

Her heart fluttered.

Then she had seen Emil put the broom at his side and spread his arms. Marta looked at him curiously.

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said that." His face was very red now, "My mom said that hugs make others feel better...so..."

He didn't have to finish—Marta was already in his arms.

As she stroked her hands along Emil's back, the most beautiful feeling swept over her. It was like an emptiness she never knew was beginning to fill up and she had just grown aware of its existence. Her body was not warmed merely because he had his arms around her as well, but a gentle ember glow illuminated her soul. Marta was taken aback when Emil had let go of her—the time seemed too short.

However she understood why Emil had relinquished himself so suddenly—his face was even redder now, and he seemed somewhat surprised at himself for what he had done. To make the situation seem less awkward for him, Marta said,

"Thank you, I feel much better now."

"No problem..." He murmured, "Ah, you still have tears in your eyes...here—"

He held out a humble-looking handkerchief—simple, yet perfect. Marta had taken it from his hands and gently held it between hers. Emil had taken up his broom again and began to sit back up.

"Well, I should probably get going—they're going to wonder why this floor is so dirty, still."

Then Marta realized something—even though she knew his name, she had not properly asked for it quite yet.

"Wait, what's your name?"

Emil glanced at her with his gentle eyes, "Emil Castagnier."

"Well, Emil, would you please take this handkerchief back from me later tonight?"

"Sure..."

"Well, until then—take care of yourself, Emil." Marta smiled at him.

Emil's face now wore a smile as well, and Marta's heart leaped at the sight. When he had finally left her to resume his chores, it seemed like Marta had awoken from a dream without ever falling asleep. At that moment, rather than standing up and freeing herself from this uncomfortable sitting position, she was engrossed in the memory of the warmth of his arms. Over and over she thought of his smile, and the spicy scent that seemed to linger with him. It was only when Marta could no longer feel her legs that she decided to stand up—and even then, she merely went to her room to daydream even more.

Marta did not try to imagine the feeling of grass beneath her barefoot feet, or the sky beyond the castle walls—she dreamed of Emil Castagnier.

---

Had he really finally spoken to her? Emil could hardly believe it. What chance did a lowly servant have to actually have a face to face conversation with a noble princess? All the while, his heart was racing—he was surprised that she did not hear it pounding beneath his chest.

Emil wandered from chore to chore without fully realizing what he was doing. He did not realize that he had swept the hall floor three times over until he remembered he had other things to do. Even then, Emil did not focus at the task at hand—which was very peculiar of him. He usually put his attention to every detail, but that seemed nearly impossible at the moment. Emil could feel a hint of jealousy building up in some deep shadow inside him—it was his other self.

His other self seemed jealous.

Sheepishly, Emil smiled. Whoops. But how could he not prevent himself from flushing at the sight of Marta? She was a cute girl—how could he not notice her?

Finally it was sunset and Emil was down to the last of his chores. After he was finished, he could go to the servants' quarters for some supper. He carried an armful of straw from stable to stable. The dying sun beat down on his skin, bathing him with nearly uncomfortable warmth. He compared it to the warmth he had felt when he had embraced Marta, and decided that he would much prefer Marta to be the sun. When Emil had set his last pile of straw down, he felt beads of sweat building on his forehead. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief—it wasn't there. He then remembered that he was to see Marta later on that night to take it back.

Emil's heart made a loud and distinct beat.

---

"Marta dear, you have hardly eaten at all." Brute had said when he noticed Marta's nearly full plate of food.

"My appetite is a bit slow."

The truth was that Marta was extremely excited—she was going to see Emil again very soon. It took a lot of energy to keep her princess-like mask stable. She felt like she could burst out giggling at any moment despite the fact that Alice and Decus were sitting with them. However, in response to her father's statement, Marta gingerly lifted her fork and daintily placed some morsels in her mouth.

"My _dear princess_ has not been acting accordingly recently—she even came late when it was time to study etiquette."

Marta lifted her napkin to cough into, to hold herself back from glaring at Alice.

"Are you feeling all right, Marta?" Brute asked.

"Yes, I'm quite well, thank you."

Marta itched at what was coming out of her mouth at the moment. She had felt so natural as she spoke with Emil earlier on in the day—now her speech seemed forced and unreal.

"I'm not sure—our dear princess was locked up in her room for most of midday. Is there a secret you are keeping from us?"

"Milady Alice has a sharp tongue." Decus had added.

"I recommend you hold your tongue, Alice, when you speak to me."

Alice seemed slightly taken aback at Marta's comment and daintily brushed her food around her plate with her fork. When Marta had seen that her attacks were halted for the moment, she had taken another small bite into her mouth. She wasn't hungry at all. Though in an attempt to not worry her father or draw suspicion, Marta had forced herself to eat her whole plate of food before her. She felt somewhat sick after that. Even so, she was the first to finish.

"Please excuse me." Marta bowed her head in her father's direction and made her way out of the dining room.

She had tried to make it seem that she was not hurrying, but she wondered if her feet had scurried anyway. Once Marta was clear out of the view of her father, she had broken into a slight run. When she had reached her room, she was slightly disappointed that Emil had not shown up quite yet—but realized that for him to show up so soon was rather impossible.

Even so, Marta sprawled herself on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. What she would give to see a starry sky and have the cold breeze gently blow across her face. She could look at the moon and the night sky from her window until sunrise, but she wished to be out there—free like they seemed to be. Marta imagined Emil lying in the grass beside her, free like she so wanted to be. Marta moved her hand to the pocket in her dress and withdrew the handkerchief and inhaled its scent. At that moment, she heard a soft thud outside her window.

Her heart fluttered.

Marta immediately jumped up from where she lay and rushed over to her window. Gazing down she saw a ladder with Emil gazing up at her from the bottom. He waved at her and then slowly began to climb. Marta grew somewhat worried, wondering if the ladder would tip over to the side or fall backward. She gripped the edges—trying to keep the ladder stable. When Emil had finally reached the window sill, she helped pull him toward her so that he safely landed in her room.

"Thanks..." Emil seemed a bit short on breath.

Marta noticed beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Here..." She handed him the handkerchief. Then she had led him over to a plush arm chair, "You can sit down, too, if you want."

Emil glanced at her with wide, surprised, and unsure eyes. Marta was sure he had not seen a chair as comfortable as that in his entire being. With a smile of reassurance, he proceeded to seat himself. Seeing that a wave of comfort swept over his face, Marta grew relieved.

"Thank you for the handkerchief earlier today...I feel much better now."

"You're welcome."

"So...why the ladder?"

Emil chuckled and rubbed the back of his head, "Well, it would be kind of weird if a boy servant entered the room of the Sylvarant Princess..."

Marta giggled, "Oh, okay."

She sat herself in the hair next to his and leaned over its arm. She observed how the blue streams of light seemed to travel through the window and linger on his skin, making it seem it to be soft and porcelain-like. Marta's gaze moved to Emil's eyes. For a moment, she thought that since it was night, they would be red, but they appeared green once again.

"...Your eyes are green..."

"Huh?"

"Oh, it's just, that when we first talked face-to-face, your eyes were red...and your personality seemed a bit different too."

Emil sighed and sunk back even deeper into his chair, "You've noticed?"

"Did I say something wrong?"

"...Oh no..." Emil seemed somewhat hesitant, but he allowed himself to speak anyway, "There's another self...inside of me. At times he takes control of my body."

Marta had gotten the slight distinction that Emil was not giving her the full details. However she had felt slightly guilty for forcing something that seemed like a secret out of him, so she did not press further on. For a moment, however, there was silence in the time that it took for Marta to think of something else to say.

"Are you more comfortable now?" Emil had asked, "You always seem uptight when you're around the other nobles."

Marta smiled, "Yes—in fact, whenever you're around, I always feel comfortable, Emil."

The sound of his name coming from her mouth sent a genuine excitement surging through her body. The feeling was exhilarating. In the soft blue moonlight, Marta could see a faint shade of red growing on Emil's face. His eyes glanced toward Marta, but he kept his face shyly turned away.

"It may sound strange, but... when you smiled for the first time earlier today—even though there were tears in your eyes, it made me happy to see you like that."

"How so?"

"It seemed like that was the first real smile I saw from you."

A light of happiness glistened in Marta's eye. She tried to move herself a little closer to him, but she was interrupted by a sound that made both of them jump.

"Your Highness?"

Marta's servant.

Emil glanced at Marta with a look of complete terror, looking to see if he could get assurance from Marta—but he was met with disappointment, when Marta was looking at him in the exact same way. Frantically looking around the room, she noticed the only dark and small place that she could hide someone was under her bed. Grabbing Emil's hand, Marta darted with him to the other side of the room, where she quickly, quietly, and frantically motioned for him to crawl under. Emil did so without any questions or contradictions.

"Y-yes?" Marta answered.

The servant opened the door to a dark room, glanced around as if she was surprised to see it so, and began walking toward Marta, her arms carrying a nightgown.

"Why is it so dark in here, Princess?"

"I was admiring the lighting of the night sky." Marta quickly said, trying to keep her voice composed.

The servant raised an eyebrow, but thankfully she did not ask any questions. "Now let's get you changed into your nightgown for bed..."

Marta panicked for a bit, and sincerely hoped Emil was keeping his head down. She screamed aloud in her mind—_don't you dare peek!_ She could almost feel the heat of Emil's blushing, however.

She turned around and spread her arms, the position she assumed when changing clothes. When Marta cast her eyes downward, however, she was struck with complete terror. She could see the stray strand of hair on the top of Emil's head sticking out from under the bed. Marta prayed sincerely that the servant was only keeping her eyes on her. As she was changed, Marta only focused on that one strand of hair, never straying from it—while constantly hoping and praying. When she felt that her nightgown was on, Marta swept the bottom of her dress so that it was wide, hopefully obscuring the servant's view of the strand of hair. She sat on the bed, making sure the hem of her dress was covering Emil's hair.

"Thank you." Marta said as soft as possible.

"Shall I get you a bed warmer, Your Highness?"

"No, it's quite all right." Marta quickly said, "I'll tuck myself in tonight—you may go."

The servant, seeming to be dumbfounded, hesitantly turned around, carrying Marta's day dress and made her way out of the room, glancing one last time at Marta before closing the door.

Marta exhaled as if she held her breath for an eternity.

"Okay, you can come out now."

Emil struggled on his way out from under the bed. He huffed as if he had run a thousand miles and stood back up.

"Th-that was close!"

"Thank goodness she didn't ask any questions..." Marta breathed.

Emil glanced at Marta in her nightgown, blushed, and turned his head while rubbing the back of his hair, "You should probably get to bed—it would be a shame if you collapsed from exhaustion tomorrow."

Marta was somewhat saddened by the fact that this would be the last time she would see Emil for the night, "Would you...come tomorrow, too?" Marta asked in a submissive voice.

A sound escaped from Emil's throat, and Marta realized that he was growing redder. Finally he had replied, "Yes, of course."

"Well then...good night."

"W-wait... I-is it all right... if I kiss your hand? You know...kind of like a goodnight kiss..."

Marta was somewhat disappointed that he had not asked for the cheek, but she held out her hand anyway. Her face had begun to turn red as well as he drew closer, his captivating scent growing more prominent. Emil had taken Marta's delicate, soft hand in his and bent his head over it, so that his lips brushed against her soft skin. Something flew in Marta's stomach at the touch. He lifted his head and stared at her with his piercing green eyes one last time.

"Good night, Marta."

"Good night, Emil."

Then he had descended from the window on the ladder—and he was out of sight. Marta laid down in her bed and pulled the sheets over her. Sleep definitely was not about to take her over soon, so she was left to think and reminisce about her newly made and fond memory. She recalled every word of their conversation... Which reminded her...

Two sides? Two Emils?

What had he meant? But Marta found that she didn't care as much—in fact, she wouldn't mind meeting the other Emil once more...

The distant sound of Emil's voice that came from her memory put her to sleep like a lullaby.


	4. Hesitation

_**A/N: **_Another chapter up! I'd like to let you guys know that updates most likely won't be as frequent as they were when this story was first published. I don't know--it really depends, I might update often, you never know. Also, I tried to take some advice from some reviews in the last chapter addressing the "pace" of this story. So hopefully I didn't make it seem like there was a rewind button. Enjoy. =)

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_Hesitation_

"Lady Alice—I have brought you a rose from the castle garden." Decus was fawning over Alice again, kneeling before her with awe and admiration—as if he was gazing upon one of the wonders of the world.

"Decus...tell me _how_ I am supposed to smell this with your scent brooding all over the room?" Alice covered her nose, obviously breathing through her mouth now as her tone of voice now possessed a nasal tone.

"Why, dearest Alice, you needn't smell it...all that this rose requires of you is to gaze upon it and admire it's beauty—and know that this is how I see you in my eyes."

Alice paused for a moment, briefly looking thoughtful and considerate, but then the glint in her eyes flared, and she turned her head away, "It seems you merely picked the first rose you saw—that offends me."

Decus' eyes widened with worry and concern, "My most sincere and deepest apologies, dearest Alice!" He stood up on his feet, but still bent his body toward her, "I shall find a rose that suits you to the utmost perfection!"

He strode away, but Alice did not seem to take any notice—her head was turned away the entire time. She turned toward the book that she held, one of many in the vast library that surrounded her. Shelves upon shelves stood upon each other, towering all the way to the ceiling. There were books on philosophy, science, fiction, history—any mind seeking knowledge would be delighted to search through all of their contents. However, Alice seemed to be in the library for mere image as she aimlessly turned the pages of her book, only occasionally skimming a sentence or two. When she noticed the light shining forth from the window and onto her was disturbed by a shadow, she instantly turned her head to the side.

Marta was walking, staring intently into the air in front of her, even though there was nothing of real interest in front of her.

Alice glanced side to side, checking to see if the king was present, and when she discovered that he was not, she spoke, "Martmart—what _are_ you doing? You hardly look dignified walking around aimlessly like that."

Marta seemed like she was retrieved from a spell when her whole body gave a small jump and breathed hard. She turned toward Alice with a look on her face that seemed like a secret of hers had been stumbled upon. Marta immediately composed herself, however, and held her hands in front of her torso in a posture that was very noble-like. Yet, Marta felt like she wanted to wipe her hands clean after doing so.

"I'm looking for a book in the library, obviously—I was just thinking of what sort of book to read."

Actually Marta was dazing in her walk throughout the castle. She reminded herself that it might be somewhat suspicious to the servants, as well as her father, if she kept daydreaming in her room. Especially with how often she seemed to be doing it now. However, to keep Alice away from suspicion—Marta approached one of the bookshelves and trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, pretending she was looking for a specific title. When Marta felt that she had spent enough time looking for a specific book, she pulled out the first one that caught her eye and went to sit in one of the comfortable arm chairs. Marta opened the book and began to cross her eyes lazily over the words.

"Science...?" Alice inquired, "I thought you hated science—you've always said it was just false blabbering."

Marta had just then realized that she had picked up a book of her dreaded subject and was taken by surprise by Alice's comment. She paused for a moment before speaking again, "I'm reading it so I can have some basis for calling it false blabbering."

Marta immediately regretted succumbing to Alice. Now she wanted to take a bath and not just wipe her hands clean. To recover herself, she decided to trail off to her memories. Then she remembered...

Emil had another self...

Marta wasn't entirely sure what Emil had meant by that. To her, it seemed to be a fairly sensitive subject for him—she recalled how quickly he had changed the subject. Yet, Marta was incredibly intrigued...it was as if she was pulled into a deep mystery, and she was determined to solve it. And a side of her so desperately wanted to meet this "other self" once more.

Then her thoughts trailed to the peck of the lips Emil had given her on the hand. Her stomach immediately turned over and she shifted herself in her seat anxiously. Everything about him seemed to pull her in...like a bumblebee being drawn to the rich pollen of a flower.

Just then, a servant came to announce afternoon tea to Marta and Alice. Marta gladly put her science book back to where it belonged. Even though she didn't read a word of it, her mind felt crowded. However, apparently she seemed giddy during tea time, yet somehow managed to keep her composure. Brute seemed slightly happy to see Marta like this. He thought, maybe at last, she was starting to accept the manner of life of a princess, thus enjoying herself a little more. But oh, how he was mistaken... If he had known the true reason behind her happiness, he would have grown cold and furious. The thought of a servant boy mingling with his daughter would cause his blood to boil. Fortunately for Marta, Brute was completely oblivious of her encounters with Emil thus far.

However Marta was only disappointed by one thing. Emil had not delivered their crumpets this time. She supposed this was regular, considering how there were so many servants—perhaps they alternated. However at this moment, she was particularly disturbed by this, and she did not know the reason.

Her fears were realized, however, on her way back from afternoon tea. The bright sun's rays leaked gleefully into the hallway Marta walked through. The light would bounce off her skin and it seemed her porcelain-like skin would glow as she passed by a window. She had to be careful though, not to skip—that would be most improper. That fact annoyed her somewhat, Marta wished she could bellow out her joys like a little child. The fact that she had to hold it in frustrated her somewhat, but it was of little consequence since her heart was rather gleeful at that moment.

But it was short-lived.

Marta had turned the corner when she saw Emil walking toward her, carrying out whatever task had been assigned to him at that moment. Her heart leaped with excitement, and she quickly picked up her pace, seemingly turning into the little girl that she wanted to be and throwing away her dreaded royal mask. Emil had turned beet red when he saw Marta, but he had turned his face away when Marta had reached him.

"Hi!" Marta chirped.

"Hi..." Emil muttered.

No words followed.

Marta bent forward, holding her hands behind her back, and looking up toward Emil. At one moment, her eyes held curiosity and concern—and the worry that was seeped into the back of her mind began to make it's way forward again.

"What's wrong?"

It seemed Emil wanted to say something, but could not find the proper words to explain, so instead he had let out a sigh, "Nothing...I have to go."

He gently brushed his way passed Marta and quickly made his way down the hall away from her. Marta straightened herself, but stood there for a moment. A cloud began to veil the sun, so the rays that leaked through the glass windows gradually became darker and Marta's skin no longer glowed.

Marta found that she was hurt.

Logically, she told herself that she shouldn't be. After all, she was a princess and he was a servant—and they had only just known each other for a few days, and had made a friendly acquaintance. However, her emotions told her otherwise. Every time Marta had laid eyes on him, a light that she never knew would shine and her spirit would grow wings and fly. Emil had comforted her at that time when Brute had severely scolded her, and if not for him, she possibly would not have been in brighter spirits earlier this morning. And to have someone like that barely even notice her, and even push her away, was heartbreaking in a sense.

Heartbreaking...

Had she the right to even describe herself as such? They had not even declared themselves a couple—she had only known him for several days... Yet, why was it so "heartbreaking?" Marta no longer knew what to think anymore as tears began to flow to her eyes. How irrational...now she was _crying_? She did not have the right to cry—she was overreacting. All at once, Marta tried to scold herself and comprehend her thoughts, leaving her mind in a jumbled mess that she could not, and dared not, fix.

What did Emil really mean to her in that case?

Before she could torture herself any longer, Marta quickly paced back to her room, closing the door behind her, and collapsing on her bed. She felt heavy in every part of her body—like iron in water. And she stayed there for hours.

It was when one of her servants had knocked on her door and reminded her that etiquette was that afternoon, that Marta finally moved. The sleep that had overtaken her wasn't nearly as satisfying as she would have liked it to be, but it had calmed her down somewhat. After all, even though Emil had hardly said anything to her concerning his thoughts. She had jumped to conclusions. On the other hand, however, she still found that the hurt within her was still there. Nevertheless, Marta had gotten up, and made her way to study manners for the evening.

Unlike earlier in the day, Marta did not feel like bounding down the halls. Her mind felt rather numb and her legs felt very stiff, resulting in a slow pace. She had no desire to get out of her room either—if she could, Marta would have remained in her room and sleep her discomfort away. Then...

_CRASH!_

Her body suddenly came to life, however, when she heard a racket from the distance. An intruder? An attack? Or maybe just merely an accident?

In all of Marta's life, she had never encountered something like this at the castle. Without thinking, Marta rushed to where she had heard the crash and the frantic babbling of voices. She had turned the corner and saw a crowd of servants gathering around a broken window, and guards rushing to the scene. When Marta had joined the ever growing crowd, gasps followed and immediately bowed their heads and there was a quick hush.

"What happened here?" She demanded.

"Just a small incident, your Highness... There was an intruder, he didn't do much damage, however, and he is being pursued at this very moment." A guard had said. When he noticed that Marta's face was still at unease, he added, "Everything is all right, I assure you."

Marta hesitated for a moment, but then carried on, "V-very well..."

The thought plagued her for a little while longer, but as Marta approached her destination, the environment of the castle began to feel normal once again. After all, if it was truly an emergency, they would have evacuated the royal family by now. The more Marta had reassured herself, the less important it seemed to be. Sylvarant had strong military power anyway, and to hunt down a single man was no problem. Marta began to drift back to her thoughts of Emil. Was he all right?...

Her thoughts were immediately broken by Alice's shrill voice.

"Why, hello there, my _dear princess_. A little late aren't we?"

"Alice, if the Princess addresses you, _only then _are you allowed to speak to her." The instructor snapped.

Marta took a seat across from Alice, and saw that standing behind her plush armchair was Decus. What was he doing here? Marta's spirits sunk even lower. However, she soon learned the reason as soon as the etiquette instructor began to speak once again.

"If you ladies have been keeping track of the days, I'm sure you've realized by now that it is nearly the anniversary of the Sylvarant Dynasty..."

Marta twiddled her thumbs. She had forgotten—and to be honest she hated the ball that seemed to accompany it. It was then when her father would hover over her like a hawk, constantly reminding her to keep up her princess facade. Her father would always choose an escort (because she never chose one herself), and he would be some boring nobleman with a huge head. It annoyed her whenever her escort would puff out his chest toward other men, provoking jealously. And Marta could not refuse if a man had asked her to dance. However that might be different this year...but with the way Emil had spoken to her earlier today, she was unsure...

"...and seeing that the ball is next week, I thought it appropriate to practice a bit of dancing for today, which is why I have brought Lord Decus here this evening. He will be your practice dance partner."

Marta cringed.

However, just outside the room, where he was not noticed, Emil was peering through the ajar door from the shadows. A red glint flashed in his eye when a ray of dying sunlight passed over his face, and he retreated further back so that he was out of it. He intently watched Marta, who was bid to rise from her seat when he saw Decus walk over to her and hold out his hand. The instructor had said something to the both of them, and hesitantly taking his hand, Marta followed Decus to the opening in the room. Slowly, they began to dance.

Emil gritted his teeth together with jealousy. He wished that his green-eyed self hadn't been so rough on her earlier that day. He feared that Marta might grow distant from him, and perhaps fall in love with Decus. Of course he hadn't known that was completely impossible, but nonetheless the thought provoked him.

"_What the heck is this?" He thought, "Who does she think she is?"_

A tiny voice inside him told him to stop.

"_Shut up!"_

Emil was incredibly close to breaking through the door himself to stop what he saw was nonsense. But when he saw that the instructor had stopped Marta and Decus, Marta had quickly resumed her seat. Alice had taken her place, and Decus seemed much more joyful. Emil's blood simmered down a bit and his shoulders grew less tense. His mind was still troubled, however. He stared longingly at Marta for a bit longer and then retreated into the darkness...


	5. Forgiveness

_**A/N:**_ Funny, right after I say that I'm not feeling very well and probably won't update this story for a while--I actually update. After thought, pondering, and reassurance, I feel a little bit better. I wrote this chapter with the feeling of hope in mind. And hopefully that feeling comes through to some sort of degree.

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_Forgiveness_

The night descended slowly—too slowly for Marta's comfort. Even though she had settled with her merely overreacting about Emil's actions earlier that day, she still had an unsettling feeling lingering within her. As the darkness swept over the night sky, so did the shadows embrace her soul. Marta dared not return to her room, for she knew if she was to linger through dreams now, they would only bring her to Emil—and at the moment, she did not want to remind herself of him. Instead, she settled for wandering the hallways, distracting her mind by carefully listening to her footsteps echo into the silence.

Her pointless traveling was put to a stop, however, when a servant, (who apparently had been looking for her for some time), had informed her that dinner was ready. Ugh—she was hardly hungry. The thought of food actually made her feel a little sick. And when she was actually seated at the table, Marta groaned when she had seen a full plate of food set before her. Brute had looked up when he heard the foreign sound, and gave his obviously false cough again. Marta quickly composed herself, and slowly began to poke her food with her elegant, silver fork. The hurt of the lying, royal mask beat down on her once again.

---

"Emil, aren't you going to eat more than that?"

Emil felt like he was going to fall forward, he was so exhausted. The voice of his Aunt Flora had shook him awake at that very moment. The other servants that ate with him at the long table didn't seem to notice, however, as they were chatting amongst themselves in bright conversation. Emil placed a hand on his forehead—so much had happened that day... He was glad that he had regained control of his mind, but earlier that day with that crash...

"Well...?" Aunt Flora interrupted his thoughts.

"Huh? N-no... I'm not that hungry...I think I'll go for tonight."

"Make sure you're careful—if you see any suspicious figures report it to the castle guard right away."

"Yeah, I'll see you at bed time, Emil." Uncle Alba added afterward.

Emil was grateful that his aunt and uncle didn't inquire him about his solemn mood as he stood up from the rather noisy table lined with servants on either side. He slowly made his way out of the servant's dining hall and began to walk through the dark and quiet castle hallways. Torches were lit here and there, bathing Emil with a dim light. Emil wasn't worried about the "suspicious figure" at all. His thoughts kept turning to Marta.

But she was a princess... There was no way that they could be together without discontent—it wasn't possible. Emil's reasoning was that if he delved too deep, He would only be hurt when the time came that they would be discovered. So his solution was to cease all relations with her—even if she was the first woman that made his heart flutter. Yet, that very thought crushed him. It had been painful earlier that day when he had tried to brush Marta aside. He somehow developed a deeper emptiness rather than the relief he had expected. To his surprise, he did not like the distance he had placed between himself and Marta, even though he had thought it best. Trailing from one thought to the next, Emil found himself conflicted. What were his feelings toward Marta?

_"You idiot!"_

It felt as if something had pierced him within the chest when that great voice suddenly filled his mind. Emil's body suddenly felt like as if it had been awoken from a nightmare, and now was expecting the dawn to come. Emil shrunk away, however, from the booming dominance and authority that seemed to paint the voice's tone that echoed through his head.

_"Rather than thinking of your own feelings, did you ever think of hers? How do you think she's feeling right now?"_

"I just don't think it's possible--" Emil spoke out loud in a timid voice, but was immediately interrupted by the roar of the lion within him.

_"That's a bunch of lies! Why don't you take a closer look before saying things like that?! Did you ever consider how happy she felt when she was around you? She did say that she felt like herself when she talked with you, right?"_

"..." Emil gritted his teeth together and fought back several tears. The voice inside him grunted, an expression of his dissatisfaction

_"Now think--how would you feel if the one person that made you feel whole suddenly brushed you off, seemingly didn't care, and never came back? Imagine how that would be if you were a girl... though you seem much like one already, crybaby."_

Emil was crying--both from the briskness of the voice in his mind, and the slight realization of what he had done. However, there was still a bit of doubt in Emil's heart, which his other self must have picked up on, for he had started to speak again.

_"You never know what's possible or impossible until you try... Now...go to Marta... or, so help me, I'll take over and do it myself."_

Emil lifted his face from his hands--he had caught something that he had not heard ever before in the tone of the other voice. Was it sadness? Or jealousy? Some kind of resentment? Whatever it was, it had caught Emil's attention, and it sent his mind whirling back into his thoughts. Suddenly his mind was centered around something completely different than before, which sent his decisions to a different direction--Marta's welfare. Suddenly Emil felt incredibly stupid for not considering that first above all things. When he had reached the end of his train of thought, Emil found himself walking off in a direction that he would have not seen himself doing a half hour ago.

---

Marta refused any assistance that night--she insisted she could dress herself for bed. When the servants questioned her, she found herself snapping back at them. She felt slightly guilty for doing so and as a result, descended even further into the chasm she had built herself. Marta found that it was haunting that the hallways were so quiet that evening--to her, it seemed to force her mind to speak even louder. Thus, her thoughts were caught again in the downward spiral. She felt so exhausted, but had no desire to sleep.

When she reached her room, Marta lifelessly went through the motions of opening the door and entering. She didn't bother to light the candles placed throughout her chamber, instead she went straight for her nightgown. She slowly undressed, dazed and distracted as she laid her fancy, heavy dress to the side. Slipping into her nightgown, Marta lazily made her way towards her bed.

Her head fell onto the pillow and her body fell limp. She could hear nothing but the wind howling outside her window. Gradually her thoughts started screaming again. She flinched at first, but when she had concentrated so hard on the pitches that the wind was making, she was satisfied that her mind drew blank. When she had heard something crash against her window sill, Marta jumped in utter surprise. Her heart began to pound as she instantly turned to the window. What she saw was the top of a ladder.

Was she seeing things?

Marta felt alive at once, and immediately rushed to the window to look to see who could possibly be climbing the ladder, if there was anyone at all. But in fact, she did see Emil climbing up toward her. He had looked up back at her and smiled sheepishly, before continuing to make his journey upward. Marta backed away to allow him some decent room, even though anticipation ate away at her.

When Emil had climbed through the window and into her room, Marta wanted to do several things. Part of her wanted to tightly embrace him, another part wanted to confront him, while the last part just wanted to punch him in the face. As a result of the conflicting forces within her, she merely stood still, dazed. There was a painful silence between them. So many words wanted to be spoken and yet not to be spoken. Just as Marta opened her mouth, Emil spoke just in time.

"About earlier today..."

Marta was immediately brought to attention.

"I-I know you're probably wondering why I didn't really talk to you." Emil's voice grew faint, "Well...it was because I thought it best that a servant and a princess not interact so informally...so...I was meaning to cut off all ties with you."

A chord was struck in Marta's heart—and it echoed sadly throughout her whole body—he was finally telling her...finally confirming her fears. Just as she lowered her head, about ready to shed all the tears her eyes carried, Emil began to speak again.

"B-but now... I realize that that was just a stupid and selfish thing of me to do. I didn't want to get in trouble, but I didn't think of your feelings. You're lonely, aren't you? So I wanted to say that I'm sorry for ignoring you earlier..."

Emil wondered if what his other self had said was really true about Marta. Had he interpreted her correctly? He knew the answer when he felt a sudden warmth surround him and the moisture of fallen tears on his shoulder. Emil was suddenly speechless. Guilt flooded his heart when he realized that what his other self had suspected was true; and at the same time he felt great relief that he had reached her before she could have fallen into a dark hole.

Marta was at a loss of words as well—all she could manage was a mere "thank you."

But that was good enough for Emil. He exhaled—a sigh of relief. Then he had taken his own arms and embraced Marta as well. At that moment, the existence of classes or social status disappeared all at once. It didn't matter—and it wouldn't matter. As long as this beautiful, overwhelming feeling embraced them both, nothing else seemed to matter. Though inside Emil, he felt a distant feeling of mourning coming from within. Though he had no time to linger on it, because Marta had begun to laugh—a sound that seemed like summer wind chimes.

"Thank you for keeping your promise—you came again."

Emil smiled, "Yeah."

"Do you want to sit down?"

"S-sure."

Marta waited for Emil to seat himself first in the armchair next to the unlit fireplace before seating herself across from him. Fortunately, the night was not cold since it was in the late spring time, so the fireplace was hardly needed. Marta leaned forward on her hands—a very thoughtful and childish look for her.

"No servants will be coming in to shock us tonight." Marta chuckled.

Emil recalled the memory and began to laugh himself, "Good—being under the bed was uncomfortable," Emil had said, "but why are you so sure that they won't come?"

"Well...I was so troubled by earlier, that I forbade my servants and ladies and waiting give me any assistance—I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you feel guilty."

"No, I don't feel guilty—I can see that you're happy now, so I'm happy, too." Emil felt like he had to apologize again, but refrained from doing so.

At that moment, Emil promised himself that he would not cause any sorrow to befall or engulf Marta like it had almost done. He felt that he should somehow repay her, make up for what he had done, to let her know he was truly sorry. He thought for a moment...

"Have you ever been out of the castle?"

"Huh?"

"You know—outside. Not just in the courtyard, but actually passed the castle walls."

"No... I haven't... I haven't even been with my father when he goes on trips." Marta's voice had a solemn color to it now. She thought for a moment before speaking again, "You know... I've always wanted to, though. I've dreamed about the feeling of grass beneath my feet... or maybe how the sky looks without castle walls."

Emil had an idea.

He glanced toward the window with the ladder, and then to Marta, who had the look of curiosity on her face when she had observed the direction of his glances. Emil was somewhat proud of himself for coming up with this sort of plan and he smiled at Marta like a child about to surprise their parents.

"No servants are coming right?"

"No..."

"I can take you there, if you like."

"What?"

"You know... where you can feel grass beneath your feet... and see the sky without castle walls. I can show you other places, too."

Marta gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth, "Really?"

"Really." Emil smiled.

Marta had always wondered how it would feel if all at once, her dreams could come true. And at this very moment, that feeling overwhelmed her and the realization fanned the ember in her heart to a passionate flame. She stood up to her feet and entwined her fingers together, beaming. Emil stood up and bade her to follow him to the window.

"Here, get on my back."

"Will you be all right?"

Emil didn't reply, he only exposed his back to Marta and held out his arms. Hesitantly she climbed up, thinking that with his feminine-looking, small body, he would just topple forward. However when she had wrapped her arms securely around him, she found that he was surprisingly strong for his size. Somewhat surprised and pleased, she felt him walk toward the window and turn around so that his feet were set on the ladder. Suddenly a sense of thrill and fear overcame her.

"...Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Just close your eyes."

Marta did so, but she had in fact squeezed them shut. She felt them descending gradually on the ladder. Marta felt a huge amount of relief when she had felt Emil's feet touch the ground, and her muscles relaxed. When she had dropped off his back, Emil had turned toward her and pulled something out of his pocket. It was the handkerchief he had lent her, except now he had proceeded to tie it around her head so that her eyes were veiled.

"Here, wear this for now—I want it to be a surprise for when we get there."

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_**A/N: **_Fortunately, I know what is going to happen next chapter. (I really should get in the habit of outlining). So hopefully I'll be able to update soon. Reviews will help my motivation. *hint hint* :)


	6. The Forbidden Kiss

_**A/N: **_I know a lot of you have been waiting for this chapter and I sincerely apologize for the wait. To be honest, it's been very hard recently for me to write this kind of genre recently. Things go off and on, and I have good and bad days. But at this point I just need to get this story done, because I know there's a lot of you who are eager to know what happens. I can't guarantee fast updating, but please enjoy what's here so far. :)

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The Forbidden Kiss

Emil had clutched Marta's hand in his and began to press forward and a thrill of butterflies passed through Marta's stomach. Even though Marta knew that they had not even gone passed the castle walls, she had already felt an openness. The wind was brushing against her cheeks and whistling through her hair. The chill that shivered down her spine was somehow exhilarating rather than uncomfortable. Already a twinge of excitement began to overtake her spirit. She listened to her own breath that seemed to harmonize with Emil's as they hurriedly traveled farther away from the castle. Marta wanted to take the handkerchief off that instant. She had never been this far away from the castle before. When she had asked Emil about taking the handkerchief off just a little bit early, he had immediately turned her down.

"I thought they were supposed to teach you patience as a princess." He teased.

Marta giggled. She was relieved, and somewhat surprised, to find that Emil had slight traces of a sense of humor. He seemed so timid before, but now he seemed slightly more confident.

As they traveled farther and farther, Marta could hear the wind not only whistling around her ears, but it spoke as a faint echo off in the distance. It was the world's whisper. The symphonies of crickets resonated in the air and the faint sound of running water. Marta had only heard the sound of running water through the bath facet and fountains—she couldn't imagine what would make such a sound out here. Emil slowly came to a stop, and Marta's stomach lurched with excitement. She bit her lip to hold back from grinning too broadly. Gently Emil's hands reached behind her head and undid the knot that held Marta's blindness, but he did not remove the handkerchief just yet.

"Ready?"

Marta nodded eagerly, holding her hands close to her chest, feeling her heart fluttering. Slowly the handkerchief slipped off of her face, but her eyes were still closed. There was a pause, and when Marta opened her eyes, all the breath in her lungs suddenly left in a gasp.

It was a meadow just on the edge of a forest with a babbling stream running through it, sustaining its life. There was grass everywhere—and it felt so soft under Marta's feet, like her father's fingers tickling her toes when she was a little girl. The wind greeted her once more as it swept through her hair, blowing it around her face. She turned toward Emil, tears streaming down her face. She flung her arms around him, but no words of gratitude could pass her lips, but Emil could feel every ounce of her joy radiating from her.

"I didn't know noblewomen were allowed to cry in front of young men." Emil teased yet again.

Marta giggled and squeezed him one last time before she flung herself away from him and began to run along the grass, spreading her arms. The wind rushed against her face even more now, and a gust came so hard that she lost her balance and fell down. She shrieked with laughter and she heard Emil rush to her.

"Are you all right?" His voice was half painted with giggles.

"Yeah!" Marta rolled over laughing.

At that moment, the only thing that seemed to exist in the world was her and Emil in this beautiful meadow. Her status and blood were so insignificant. It was as if she had woke from a dream and became conscious to her true life—far from the castle that held her in with stone walls. She heard a rustle next to her, rolled over on her back, and looked to her side. Emil had fallen with her. He had met her gaze and smiled before turning to the sky above them. Marta did the same and was immediately put in awe from the stars that sprinkled the sky.

At that moment a shooting star flew across the sky and Marta gasped with excitement. "Emil, what is that?"

"You mean you don't know what a shooting star is?" Emil sounded rather surprised, "When you see one, you're supposed to close your eyes and make a wish."

The very next moment, Emil could see Marta squeezing her eyes shut and holding her clasped hands close to her chest. He smiled. So this was Marta's true nature—a child at heart. When she opened her eyes, she looked at him and smiled. His bright green eyes were so beautiful in the moonlight, like a forest standing at the side of the sea.

"Thank you for bringing me out here."

"You're welcome." Emil said softly.

For a moment, they listened to the night's song a little while. Marta could hear her heavy, yet steady breathing as her heart fluttered around in her chest. At that moment, she never was more conscious of being alive than at any other time in her life. Marta breathed in deeply, inhaling the cool air and exhaled with a sound of satisfaction. She turned her head over on it's side to face Emil. His eyes were closed, but a slight smile was on his face. Within him, there was a voice that only he could hear,

"_This is why you should listen to me more often."_

Emil didn't feel like arguing with the voice at the moment, however. He was in a moment of bliss that reflected on his countenance. He was less afraid now—less unsure. And he loved this feeling that seemed to sweep over him like the wind that ran along the grass. Was it perhaps because Marta was there next to him? He heard a gentle, soft voice next to him.

"Hey, Emil..."

"Hmm?"

"Will you promise me something?"

"Anything you ask for."

"I know this might be a selfish request on my part..." Marta began, a little hesitant, "but will you stay by my side?

"If it makes you feel as happy as you are now, then I always will." Emil could hardly believe that the words that were coming out of his mouth, and even how easy they came.

"I'll always be happy with you near. Because when I'm with you, I'm sure I can always see the stars beyond the castle walls in your eyes. And when I see the stars, I can be my true self."

A flush of red flew across Emil's face. His eyes flew away from Marta as his throat began to grow tight, but a slight thrill of excitement. He moved his hand slowly—almost without him knowing—gradually inching toward Marta's own hand. His cold fingers touched the back of her porcelain-like hand.

Marta's eyes slightly widened at that moment and even though Emil's hand was quite cold, she had never felt such a warmth ever before. In faint disbelief she was frozen for a little while, but then gradually embraced the moment with joyful yet subtle eagerness and flipped her hand over, so that her fingers could entwine with his. She met his gaze again, and grins were across both their faces. They didn't speak—they didn't need to. All their words came from their eyes at that moment. It felt as if an eternity had been passing by as they continued to gaze at the stars, hand in hand.

"So what did you wish for?"

"Hmm?"

"When you saw that falling star—what did you wish for?"

Marta giggled, "It's my secret."

Emil laughed for a moment, but a loud rustling in the bushes afar shushed him. It was far too forceful for the soft wind to have brushed through it. He wondered if an animal were capable of giving him such a sick feeling. He sat up, shaking and dreadfully frightened.

"Emil? What's wrong?" Marta asked as she felt his grip tighten.

Then suddenly out of the darkness came two blades of light that were crossed, charging forward across the grass toward Emil and Marta. A scream escaped both of their lips at that moment. Just in time, however, Emil clutched to Marta and jumped out of the blades' path. Emil stayed over Marta's body when it passed and even a little after. Finally lifting himself off of her, he turned toward the darkness and saw a figure coming forth from the shadows.

It was a man far taller than he, with long red hair and a pair of glasses sitting on his long nose, shielding pale, green eyes. His clothes were somewhat tattered, as if he had been traveling a long distance. In both hands he carried some kind of blade. In the right hand, he carried a long, grotesque-looking sword and in the left, a sort of small ax that seemed like it could cut through anything. To Emil's horror, he found familiarity in this man, for he had been attacked by him earlier.

"Who is that?" Marta asked exasperated.

"Did you really think that running from me _once_ was enough to get me off your back?" The man's voice was booming, and a threatening authority was painted over its tone, giving it a frightening timbre.

Emil began to stutter and tremble even more. And before he could speak, another attack of crossed blades came flying at him and Marta. Emil barely managed to escape once again, still clutching Marta close to him. After the attack had passed them, Emil clutched Marta's hand tighter yet, and began to dash away as fast as his legs would carry him with Marta quickly following him at his side. Both their breathing was frantic and frightened.

Suddenly a sharp sting of pain came across Emil's back and crying out he fell to the moist grass.

"Emil!!" Marta shrieked and immediately fell to her knees

Emil flipped over on his back, tears in his eyes. He looked to Marta and then over to the man that steadily approached him. The frightening glow of his eyes pierced Emil's soul as he raised his sword to pierce Emil's heart. Marta flung her arms around Emil's neck, gasps escaping her throat.

"No, Marta... run... please..." Emil begged.

"I can't leave you!"

"I know you're there..." The man intruded, "Ratatosk!"

To Marta, the flesh that she gripped somehow became different... almost as if she held a different person. Slowly Emil began to raise his body from the ground. Marta's hands slipped back to her sides as she gazed upon Emil's face. The bright, green eyes that she knew so well were now painted with a bloody crimson. Emil stretched his hand out and bits of light formed in the air and began to crash against each other. From that dark light, a sword had materialized in his hand, that he now gripped with utmost confidence.

"Well?" Emil began, his voice far deeper than what it was before, "Here I am!"

He had swung his sword to banish the blade that threatened him and Marta away from them. Emil stood up and once again clashed blades with the man before him, until a storm of colliding metal began to ring throughout the night air. It was as if, all of a sudden, Emil had became a master of the sword. Marta dared not move from where she sat... feeling that if she moved, somehow the man Emil fought would notice her and strike her down. That fear became alleviated, though when Emil had pierced the blade he wielded into the red-haired man's shoulder. He cried out in terrible pain and dropped the sword he held in his right hand to clutch the deep wound. He fell to his knees, arched over in pain.

The sword in Emil's hand disappeared suddenly as he began to run toward Marta. He quickly grasped her hand and they began to fly away once more. Unlike on their way to their once peaceful haven, Marta's eyes were wide open and trails of sweat were trickling down the sides of her face, and the hair that wasn't flying behind her stuck to her neck.

It seemed like hours had passed when they reached the castle. Emil, whose eyes were still glazed with red, put a finger to his lips to remind her of silence, even though they were both panicked and frightened. They crouched and quickly ran around the trees and beds of flowers until they reached the tower where Marta's bedroom window remained. Emil bent over, as he held his arms back for Marta to climb onto. She did this and he quickly, yet carefully climbed up the ladder. At last, and to their great relief, they made it to Marta's bedroom. And when they were both on their feet, Marta flung herself onto Emil and held him tightly. Hesitantly, his own arms wrapped around her as well.

"Who was that man?" Marta's voice was muffled as she spoke into Emil's chest, trembling.

Emil paused for a moment, "His name is Richter... he's been chasing me for a while now. But don't worry—we're both safe here with the castle guards patrolling night and day."

Marta's muscles gradually relaxed and her breathing more steady. She plunged herself into a moment of reflection. She then lifted her face so that she gazed up at Emil, staring into his strange eyes.

"Is your name... Ratatosk?"

Emil—or rather, Ratatosk—stared down at her for a moment, not saying anything at all. But when he did speak, his voice penetrated the silence like a blade, "Yes."

"So you're not Emil?"

"In a sense... but at the same time, we are the same." He moved his arms from Marta's back to her shoulders, "Yet we still have our own thoughts, our own minds... our own emotions."

Marta began to feel herself backing up—farther and farther back, and all the while, the other Emil spoke to her with a strange voice.

"He may have taken your first date..." Marta felt her back suddenly touch the coldness of the stone wall, and Ratatosk moved one of his hands to the wall beside her face, "but..."

And the last thing Marta saw were those crimson, red eyes coming closer toward her. The air between their lips gradually reduced to nothing, and Marta felt a velvety softness rubbing against her lips. Though her arms remained at her sides out of sheer shock, Ratatosk moved his both his hands to her shoulders again and slid them down her sides until they were once more on her back. He pulled her in close to him so the air between their bodies had also vanished. Marta managed to lift her hands to his cheeks, her fingers trailing to the back of his head and tangling her fingers in his hair.

Her first kiss...


End file.
